


Do-Gooder

by delina



Category: Jessica Jones (TV)
Genre: F/F, Friendship, Gen or Pre-Slash, Pre-Slash, Superheroes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-18
Updated: 2017-12-18
Packaged: 2019-02-16 08:35:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13050390
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/delina/pseuds/delina
Summary: Trish still believes that Jessica can be a hero. If she would only try, even a little.





	Do-Gooder

**Author's Note:**

  * For [andibeth82](https://archiveofourown.org/users/andibeth82/gifts).



“ _Trish Walker: Celebrity Busybody_.”

She crinkled her nose at that. “Please. I don’t waste time with any of that tabloid gossip, and you know it.” As was Trish, she responded to the letter of the conversation, and not the spirit, which was “go away.”

“And yet you keep bringing it to me.” Literally, in this case, as Trish waved a New York Times in her direction emphatically.

“It’s not gossip, if you’d just follow the news, you’d see every day how many people could use your help—”

“Fine. Pushy Do-Gooder,” Jessica corrected.

“Somehow you make _that_ sound worse, even if it’s not.” All sincerity. “ _Someone_ has to be pushy with you.” Jessica bristled. Trish’s expression melted to contrition. “That’s not— you know what I mean.” She reached for her elbow, which Jessica shrugged off, increasing pace along the sidewalk. Jessica hoped the awkward air would set Trish on her way, sick of putting up with her poor attitude, but the plucky radio host only redoubled her efforts. She had too much practice dealing with prickly interviewees.

“Call me what you want, but at least I’m trying to make a difference,” Trish continued the same tune.

“I’m not stopping you.”

“Yeah, but you’re stopping yourself.” She didn’t know how Trish could say something like that and actually mean it. Though she’d escaped the kids showbiz life, some of those rote morals weren’t so easily shaken. All the things she’d seen and still Trish Walker believed in good and right.

“Look—” Jessica’s scathing quip about Trish saving the world one Patsy signature at a time was rendered inaudible by blaring horn honks and squealing tires. She didn’t even flinch at the interruption. Angry people and bad drivers were as plentiful as pizza joints in the city. She took it as providence, divine intervention to keep them from escalating to shouting match on the sidewalk, and turned to go.

She walked right into an outstretched arm as Trish leapt across her path yelling her name. The newspaper turned into so many fluttering pages swept off across the pavement. The car horns continued to sound, stretching into a long wail of unabated noise. A heavy construction truck careened widlly high-speed across the lanes and impacted against the corner of the building right in front of them. It bounced off its wheels with the force of the stop. Windshield and storefront glass shattered. Metal ground against concrete and the front of the six-wheeler crumpled. The building shuddered and cracked, loosed bricks cascading to the ground.

Jessica wrapped arms around Trish and leaped back, getting them both clear of the debris and destruction. A few pedestrians gasped, glancing between the sudden devastating crash and her obviously superhuman feat. Trish clung to her, head bowed and fingers curled into her heavy scarf, shaking. A crowd of onlookers was gathering. The building was in bad shape. Faults from the impact spiderwebbed up the walls and gaped open, spilling loosed chunks of concrete onto the corner. The alarm on a parked car went off as its windshield was pelted and shattered. Shrieks of help and rescue started to rise, and sets of eyes were turning towards her.

Her first instinct was to walk to the nearest subway. Not her fault, not her problem. So sad, another shitty day. Let someone who cared sort it out. She shifted on her feet, but the weight of another body still holding hers for support kept her from fleeing.

Trish looked up at her through her blonde hair: all anger and brass. She wasn’t shaking with fear, but adrenaline. Trish wanted to save the world, only problem was Jessica had the superpowers. If only they could trade, she knew her best friend would put them to good use.

All protests against heroics fell silent before those urgent eyes. Jessica had to hand it to her: it _was_ the push she needed. She let loose the scoff of disgust she’d been withholding since she’d seen the newspaper Trish had brought. _The Real Heroes New York Needs._ A tiny, corner-page writeup about the importance of those heroes who helped protect the little guy, when the caped freaks were busy saving the world. _What a prize to be found,_ Jessica had thought bitterly, but it seemed to cheer Trish enough to come running to her with grandiose plans, and here they were, words ringing in her ears.

“Fine,” Jessica’s tone was particularly low and drawn, even to herself. But Trish acquiesced without having to be pushed off, hands releasing her scarf only to be clasped together in childlike excitement. She seemed to realize her jovial smirk was inappropriate for the situation and gave her professional face instead. Jessica pursed her lips in reply, but couldn’t bring herself to say anything negative.

A few determined steps brought her right alongside the crushed and smoking truck. One foot on the running board and grasping the handle, the door was easily ripped off its hinges. Jessica tossed it aside like tin foil, where it landed with another smash on the wounded parked car, finally silencing its alarm. Reaching between the deflating airbags, she plucked the confused driver from his seat like a doll, dragging him back out the passenger side. He burbled wordlessly with fear, whether from the shock of the crash or herself, Jessica was unsure. She deposited him on the curb with the trash.

“Don’t text and drive next time, asshole!” Further berating was interrupted by more shouting, Trish’s voice rising above the rest. She dodged out of the path of another hunk of building that shattered where she’d stood. Swearing under her breath she moved to the doorway of the storefront and braced herself within, arms extended to shore up the integrity. The shop’s occupants were crowded at the back, behind toppled displays and smashed food, fearful and in shock.

“Rescue’s here _, now come on_ , before the building comes down,” Jessica urged impatiently. Hefting marble and holding a whole building up were two different things, and it wouldn’t last. Thankfully, the group listened, quickly filing out through the gape of the broken door then spreading out on the sidewalk. She spared one last glance at the room to find it empty, then let go and jumped back in the same movement.

The arch of the window and double-door lasted another tenuous moment before it crumpled it on itself, layers of concrete snapping the cheerful front signage with finality. Jessica huffed. The people around started to clap. She turned to look, feeling her lips curl back in a grimace, but though she received a few shocked looks, they weren’t deterred. The clapping rose and a few whoops of cheer went out, which died down into chattering of relief and thanks. Jessica’s stomach turned and she pushed through a few onlookers to make a hasty exit.

She heard a set of clicking heels runing to catch up to her, her eyes trained down on the dirty sidewalk as she stomped onward with hands in her pockets.

“Jess! Hold on,” Trish said, voice cheerful even as she struggled to keep up. She wasn’t about to stay around for that. Jessica didn’t want to revel in praise. She didn’t even want to be looked at. “Are you okay?” The worried tone finally got her to slow.

“...Yeah. Fine.” Her voice was a croak.

“You did good. You helped.” Jessica thought something as small as that couldn’t even make a dent in her own guilt, let alone in the grand scheme of things, but the words coming from Trish somehow made a difference. She spared a glance to her best friend’s face, but that lively beaming smile made more awkward knots in her stomach than the applause did.

“ _You_ helped,” Jessica shot back. Her tongue tangled on any further words, sincerity and sarcasm jumbled together and neither would come out. Trish seemed content with the silence. Rather than pushing her more, prodding her to action or attempting to force a talk, Trish just walked alongside her. She curled her hand into the bend of Jessica’s elbow, giving a little squeeze of reassurance, then left it there.

Jessica thought for the millionth time that she wouldn’t have survived without Trish. She wouldn’t be able to keep going without this one person that meant to most to her in the world— that she loved. Internally, she replaced her earlier title with a more suitable one.

_Trish Walker: Superhero._

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first time I've ever done Yuletide! Thanks so much for the opportunity, and thanks so much for my friend's help with getting this one going. I hope you enjoy it, giftee! ♥


End file.
